Remembered
by echoesinthenight
Summary: "I don't expect to be accounted for, I don't expect to be taken into consideration, hell, I don't even expect to be counted, but Sherlock; I do expect to be remembered." -pre Sherlock/Molly. T to be safe


**Title: Remembered.**

**Summary: "I don't expect to be accounted for, I don't expect to be taken into consideration, hell, I don't even expect to be counted, but Sherlock; I do expect to be remembered."**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: In reality I own very little, and Sherlock is not one of them. **

**00:04 25****TH**** December.**

He was drenched, he knew that much. He could feel the rain falling on him but he didn't pay much attention to it. After all, he had more important things to think about. In front of him, there was Molly Hooper, standing in that beautiful periwinkle blue dress she had so carefully chosen to wear that evening. She was completely drenched, much like Sherlock himself.

Sherlock wasn't cold or angry. He didn't feel sad, or anything of that sort. All he felt was a stinging pain on his left cheek where Molly had just slapped him. He could see the tiny water droplets on her cheeks but couldn't make out whether it was the rain or Molly's own tears.

"Sherlock…" She said in a rather animus voice. He didn't know what she was going to say, but he knew it wasn't going to be anything pleasant.  
Yes, the great Sherlock Holmes had messed up. Big time.

"…Sherlock..." she continued, "...I don't expect to be accounted for, I don't expect to be taken into consideration, hell, I don't even expect to be counted, but Sherlock; I do expect to be remembered and if you cannot do that, then you might as well do without me.". And with that she turned and started walking away, leaving Sherlock standing alone in the rain.

* * *

**17:30, 24****TH**** December. (Earlier that evening)**

'Another Christmas eve wasted.' Thought the thirty-three year old pathologist from Bart's while pouring herself a second glass of the wine she had bought earlier that day. She wanted to spend the day in the hospital but Mike had suggested she went home and enjoyed Christmas with a few friends instead. Little did he know, that the shy, mousey little pathologist didn't have many friends and the ones she did have, were busy with their spouses or families.

So, she once again, was left completely alone on Christmas, with no one but her ever-so-loyal cat, Toby. She had thought about going and meeting Sherlock but when she remembered the events of the last Christmas party at 221-B, her confidence died, and finally, she decided against it.

She was sitting in front of her telly watching Glee, when she heard her phone ringing. She initially thought about letting the call go to voice mail, for she was not in the mood to talk to anybody, but after a few rings the curiosity got better of her and she got up and walked toward the kitchen, where she had left her phone. Seeing the caller ID made her loose balance and she almost fell.

It was Sherlock. Sherlock never called. He NEVER called. She hesitated for a minute before picking up, for she had no idea what the detective was going to say.

"Hello..?" she said, almost unsure of whether it was the right thing to do.

"Hello Molly, thank you for choosing to pick up the phone." said the detective in the deep, baritone voice. The same baritone that often made Molly's knees go weak.

"No problem... umm... Sherlock, do you want something?"

"Nothing actually, I just want to take you to a party. I'll be at your place by seven. That's all."

"...what?" said Molly. She really hadn't meant for it to come out as a squeak.

"Come on Molly, you heard what I just said. Please do not try to act as if you didn't. Your voice fails you in that field."

"No... I- I heard you, but why would you want to take me to a party?"

"It's for a case." Sherlock said, clearly annoyed. He wasn't fond of having to answer too many questions.

"Oh... okay... Umm... I'm not sure..." said Molly.

"I don't see why not. You Molly, clearly have no plans for Christmas whatsoever and are sitting in your flat, planning to spend it with your cat and your television."

It was Molly's turn to be annoyed. Yes, he was right, but that doesn't mean he can mock her about it!  
"I will spend my Christmas the way I like Sherlock! It's absolutely none of your business! If you really want someone to help you, then why don't you ask John!? Or Janine! Why me!?"

"I asked for your help Molly, because John and Mary have plans for the evening and I'm not in good relations with Janine after the Magnusson affair."

"I don't know Sherlock, I'm not sure I want to go to any sort of party now. Just let me think about it okay? I'll text you later.

"Fine." With that the line went dead.

Molly Hooper sighed and put the phone down on the counter. She thought about refusing Sherlock, but then went over her options. She had two options. One, she could spend the rest of the Christmas Eve alone with Toby. Or two, she could go with Sherlock (emphasis on the word 'with') to the party. After going through multiple scenarios in her head and a lot of meticulous thinking, she finally made up her mind and texted Sherlock.

* * *

**17:45, 24****TH**** December.**

'This case has proved to be more tedious than I had anticipated.' Thought the thirty-four year old Consulting detective while sipping his coffee and looking at his phone. He was waiting to receive Molly's text, although he knew what the answer was going to be. Molly was clearly going to refuse his request. To be honest, he was a bit disappointed to know that Molly was going to refuse him. He had thought that they could perhaps enjoy themselves at the party after the case was finished.

It was a simple case actually, nothing that required too much time. It was a simple kidnapping of a seventeen year old girl who was the granddaughter of a famous but old industrialist. The kidnappers were trained professionals who were commissioned by the girl's uncle. The motive was of course the same as most cases like these. Money. Sherlock had already got the girl's uncle to confess, but they hadn't found the girl because the kidnappers refused to hand over the girl without their money. They claimed to have hidden the girl someplace where no one would ever find her. Idiots. It was crystal clear that the girl was somewhere in the mansion.

Sherlock had known that the kidnappers were going to come to the ninetieth birthday party of the industrialist disguised as some of the guests, looking to get their money, and Sherlock would then use this mistake, to blow off their cover. He had thought about doing it beforehand but then, had decided against it as it may prove to be dangerous to the girl.

His concentration was broken when his phone made the ever-so-familiar noise, meaning Sherlock had received a text. He had no reason to check the message for he already knew the content and the sender, but decided to check it anyways, waning to know what excuse Molly had made up in order to deny his offer.

I'll go to the party. Do I have to wear a dress?-Molly.

To say that Sherlock wasn't surprised would be like saying that fire was cold and ice was hot. Molly had not refused his invitation. That was really something. She was really something, for she had gotten Sherlock Holmes to make a wrong deduction.

He quickly typed a 'yes' and drifted away into his mind palace.

* * *

**18:01, 24****TH ****December.**

Molly was standing and beaming at him happily. The yellow of her dress was hurting his eyes. But he wouldn't have his Molly any other way. Wait! Did he just say his Molly? Something was definitely wrong, why would he ever-  
"You think too much Sherlock." Said Molly, interrupting him.  
"Sorry what?"  
" I said, you think too much. Stop thinking and just enjoy the wedding. Would you?"  
"Molly, you're a scientist, you should know that one can't just 'stop thinking', that's virtually impossible"  
"You'd be surprised" she said coming a little closer to him. She gave him one last smile and everyone around disappeared into thin air. The walls of the room were no longer the pleasant yellow like they had been a few minutes earlier, but plain white instead. Molly was no longer wearing the yellow dress Sherlock liked so much (not that he would ever admit it). Instead, she was wearing her white lab coat over her cherry printed jumper that she wore so often. They weren't in the reception hall anymore; instead, they were in the morgue. The same morgue were he and Molly had first met  
"You left the reception early." Molly said breaking the silence.  
"You saw me?"  
"Yes Sherlock, I saw you. I always see you"  
"Yes Molly, you always see me"  
"Too bad I don't count" she said. She was still smiling at him, but it wasn't the same smile she had given earlier, it was more of a sad smile. He decided he didn't like it. He preferred seeing his Molly happy. He wanted her to have all the happiness in the world, which was something he would never be able to give her.  
"You're wrong you know, you do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." He said  
at this Molly smiled, it wasn't the biggest of smiles, but seeing it made Sherlock smile as well.  
He was thinking of something to say, but wasn't sure what would be appropriate.  
"I-"

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" he heard someone shouting. It wasn't Molly; he was sure of that... it was  
"Sherlock! I brought you tea"  
...Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock opened his eyes and found Mrs. Hudson standing in front of the door. She was holding a tray that had a cup, a tea-pot and a plate with a few biscuits in it.  
"I brought your tea dear" said Mrs. Hudson whilst smiling at him.  
"I also brought you biscuits." She added.  
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson, put in on the table.

The elderly landlady of 221B Baker Street did as she was told. After putting the tray on the table, she smiled at Sherlock and turned to leave.

Sherlock sighed and glanced at the clock. It read 6:34 pm. He had been in his mind palace for almost an hour. He got up and went to his bedroom. He opened the cupboard where an expensive looking, neatly pressed suit was hanging. He took the suit out of the cupboard and started getting ready.

* * *

**19:01, 24****TH**** December.**

Molly Hooper was standing on the pavement, waiting for Sherlock to arrive. The wind was blowing, causing her light satin dress to blow with it. She had opted to wear a satin periwinkle blue dress. It was pretty and extravagant and she had saved that dress strictly for special events. She had hesitated while choosing this dress, thinking that it may not be the best of times but she decided to wear it either way. Wearing that dress, Molly felt pretty, which was something she hadn't felt in the longest of times. She hadn't taken too much time to dress up. She had put on only a little make-up, and had decided to let her hair down once she had it curled into small and supple ringlets.

Sherlock was looking at her. Molly was looking down at the street and therefore hadn't noticed Sherlock standing on the other side of the road. He saw Molly in that dress she was wearing. To say she looked good would be the understatement of the century. She truly looked marvellous. Her simple hairstyle and make up illuminated her face even more.

She looked up from the street to see Sherlock looking at her from the opposite pavement. She smiled, and started walking towards him,  
"Hey..." she said to him after crossing the street.  
Sherlock, however said nothing. Molly couldn't read Sherlock's expression as accurately as he could read hers, but she could see that Sherlock was pleased, and that made her happy.

"So, shall we go now?" Sherlock said finally while extending his arm to her and gesturing for her to take it.  
She smiled at him and took held onto his arm.

* * *

**22:38, 24****TH**** December (Molly POV)**

It had started raining almost as soon as they reached the party. Molly Hooper was standing alone in a corner waiting for Sherlock. He had left her, telling her to wait for him. So she did.

She had met a fine man named Andrew Connelly earlier that evening .He was good company, but was rather dim-witted, and therefore it had been difficult for Molly to hold a conversation with him for more than ten minutes. He, on the other hand, found Molly weird, like most people. So he too decided to leave her on her alone.

After the last of the guests had left, Andrew Connelly had noticed Molly sitting alone in the bar, looking at her drink with no intention of having it. Realising that she had waited for almost three hours, he had offered to escort her home. Molly had refused though. Yes, she was bored out of her mind and desperately wanted to go home, but she had to wait for Sherlock. She had to wait for him...

* * *

**22:38, 24****TH**** December (Sherlock POV)**

Sherlock was tired. And drenched. The kidnappers were dumb-witted, but they had refused to go down without a fight. He had successfully recognised the kidnappers, saved the girl, ran after the kidnapper who tried to run away, fought him and defeated him. He had done all of this before the incompetent police officers at Scotland Yard had even managed to give him a hand. Lestrade had wanted him to stay, and meet the girls grandfather one last time, but he had refused. He was tired and the last thing he wanted to do was meet up with some old man just to receive a 'thank you'.

So he went to his flat instead. With the little energy he had left, he changed into dry clothes, walked to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed. He had a feeling in his gut saying that he was forgetting something, but Sherlock decided to ignore it. Whatever it was, it could wait till the morning. Now all he needed to do was rest. With that last thought, he closed his eyes, and drifted off into deep sleep.

* * *

**23:03, 24****TH**** December**

It was still raining heavily. Molly was still sitting alone in the bar. Everyone had left, except the kidnapped girls' grandfather and the police officers. From where she was sitting, she could see the happiness and relief in the old man's eyes as he hugged his granddaughter. She could also see DI Lestrade, who was standing near the girl. Sherlock was nowhere in sight, so Molly decided to ask Lestrade where he was.  
"Hey Molly, what are you doing here?" asked the detective inspector whilst smiling at her  
"hey Greg, I actually came here with Sherlock, to help him with the case" she replied  
"oh okay" was the detective inspectors bland reply.  
"Umm... Greg, do you know where Sherlock is? He asked me to wait for him here until he came back, and it's quite late now."  
"I'm sorry Molly, but I'm afraid that Sherlock has already left. He left almost an hour ago. He said he was tired and went back to his flat" said Greg rather nervously, knowing that the situation was a bit sensitive.  
"Oh..." was the only thing she said, followed by a pregnant pause. "Thanks Greg, see you later" she added a few minutes later. She gave him a soft smile, and Lestrade could clearly see the tears forming in her eyes.  
"Its fine, come on molls, I'll get you home."  
"No its fine Greg, I'll walk."  
"But it's raining! You cannot possibly—"  
"its fine Greg, I would like to walk, and I need to stop by baker street too" said Molly interrupting him.  
"Oh...okay, are you sure?"  
"Yes, very." And with that Molly turned to leave.

* * *

**23:49, 24****TH ****December**

Sherlock trying to sleep, but his preposterous cell phone kept ringing and ringing. Sherlock was a light sleeper as it was and the indecent ringing of his phone wasn't helping. After ten minutes of bearing the irritating noise of his phone, picked it up.  
"What?" he scowled  
"hey, Sherlock it's me Lestrade"  
"what do want Gavin?" Sherlock said, annoyed.  
"It's Greg. I met Molly at the party and she was looking for you. She said that you asked her to wait for you, but you never showed up. Sherlock, please don't tell me you forgot about her..." Said Greg from the other side of the phone.

It only took Sherlock a minute to realise what he had done. He had left Molly alone at the party and forgot about her completely.  
"Greg where is she now? Is she with you?" he said, alarmed.  
"No umm... she left.  
"What do mean she left? Its bloody pouring outside and you let her go?" Sherlock was shouting now.  
"I tried to stop her! But she didn't listen to me."  
"Where she now?"  
"I don't know, she's probably coming to you now. She said that she needs to talk to you."  
And after that last statement, Sherlock, disconnected the phone and hurried out of the bedroom. He didn't even bother to change, just collected his coat from the hanger.

He opened the front door and hurried down the steps. He was almost at his front door when he saw Mrs. Hudson standing near the door, talking to someone.  
"Mrs. Hudson?" he said  
the elderly woman turned towards him. She looked at him with pity and moved away from the door revealing a wet Molly Hooper.

"Molly—"was all the detective could say.  
"Hey Sherlock" she replied.  
Silence. Sherlock had absolutely no idea what to say, so he settled for an awkward 'hey'.

Molly was clearly not pleased. She was drenched and soaked through and through, her wet hair was pressed against her skin and her dress was of a darker shade now that it was wet. It wasn't blowing in the wind anymore but was pressed to her skin like her hair. And anger was radiating off her.

"Do you have any idea of what you have done? She said, angrily.  
Sherlock desperately wanted to say something, but his voice failed him. No words came out.

"Okay, so you gonna keep quiet? Fine" Molly said and turned to leave.  
It took Sherlock a few seconds to realise what was happening, he realised Molly was leaving, so he ran after her.  
"Molly, wait! I can explain!" he shouted when he almost caught up to her.

Molly came to an abrupt stop and turned to face Sherlock.  
"Fine. Explain." She said  
that took Sherlock by surprise. He had expected Molly to tell him that she didn't need an explanation or something of that sort. 'You're very surprising indeed Molly Hooper'  
it was Molly disappointed sigh that made Sherlock realise that he was lost in his thoughts.  
Sherlock didn't know what to tell her, he was confused, and cold, and a last settled for something along the lines of "Molly, i—i was umm... Tired, umm... so i—i came home and—forgot about you"  
"so, you forgot about me? Right?" said Molly through gritted teeth.  
"Not exactly, I knew I was forgetting something but didn't think it was important." Sherlock stated.

Molly didn't answer him. She just stared at him with sheer anger. Sherlock was running out of patience, so he decided to break the silence instead of waiting for Molly to say something.  
"Molly—"he started.

SLAP.

* * *

**00:04 25****TH**** December.**

He was drenched, he knew that much. He could feel the rain falling on him but he didn't think much about it. After all, he had more important things to think about. In front of him, there was Molly Hooper, standing in that beautiful periwinkle blue dress she had so carefully chosen to wear that evening. She was completely drenched, much like Sherlock himself.

Sherlock wasn't cold or angry. He didn't feel sad, or anything of that sort. All he felt was a stinging pain on his left cheek where Molly had just slapped him. He could see the tiny water droplets on her cheeks but couldn't make out whether it was the rain or Molly's own tears.

"Sherlock…" She said in a rather animus voice. He didn't know what she was going to say, but he knew it wasn't going to be anything pleasant.  
Yes, the great Sherlock Holmes had messed up. Big time.

"…Sherlock..." she continued, "...I don't expect to be accounted for, I don't expect to be taken into consideration, hell, I don't even expect to be counted, but Sherlock; I do expect to be remembered, and if you cannot do that, then you might as well do without me.". And with that she turned and started walking away, leaving Sherlock standing alone in the rain.

* * *

**10:31,25****TH**** December**

Sherlock couldn't sleep. He was awake all night thinking about, well... Molly.

He had sent her exactly three messages and when she didn't reply, he called her. Twice. Sherlock however had received no answer. Sherlock had once thought about letting it go. If Molly wasn't going to talk to her, then he was going to wait until she changed her mind and decided to talk to him. He realised there was no way that was going to work out. He had messed it up big time and if he didn't find a way to apologise to her soon, else he'll lose her friendship at least for a considerable amount of time if not forever.

John had come over to Baker Street only to find his friend sitting in the sofa with a somewhat sad expression plastered on his face.

"What's the matter mate? Christmas getting on your nerves again?

John had received no answer in the beginning, but after threatening to break Sherlock's nose if he didn't answer, he had finally received an explanation to why Sherlock was being such an ass.

His explanation of course infuriated John further.  
"You're telling me that you had asked molly to help you with the case." John asked.  
"Yes. Is there any problem if I did?"  
"No absolutely not. So, she agreed to go to the party with you?  
"Yes, she did, I already told you what happened. Do pay attention john."  
"And you left her alone, waiting, while you were here, sleeping your ass off?" john asked, clearly pissed off at Sherlock  
"umm... yes, somewhere along that line..." Sherlock answered  
"YOU...FUCKING DICKHEAD!" John stated in his I-feel-like-ripping-your-head-off voice.  
"Well what could I do? I was tired! I hadn't slept for three days! You know, contrary to popular belief, I am a human being!"  
John's expression softened a miniscule at this.  
"You're planning on apologising to her, right?" john asked.  
"Yes, but I don't know how to." Was the detective's answer.  
"Have you tried talking to her?"  
"Yes I called her. twice. she didn't pick up the phone though." Sherlock stated.  
John was surprised. Sherlock never called. he _never_ called.

"You need to go and talk to her." said john and handed Sherlock his coat. Sherlock stared at his friend for a while, before finally taking his coat.  
"Fine, I'll go."  
The detective put on his coat and scarf and proceeded towards the door.  
"Um.. Sherlock, wait!"  
Sherlock turned around to face his friend.  
"you did you take molly to the party?" said john with a confused expression on his face.  
"I told you, it was for the case." was Sherlock's intelligent reply  
"but why? you obviously had no use for her! you fucking forgot about her! I know you Sherlock, and if you actually needed molly to help you with the case, then you wouldn't have forgotten about her!"  
Sherlock internally cringed at this statement. Why did John need to emphasise the point that Sherlock had made a mistake? he thought about what he could say to John, and finally, he settled for the truth.  
"I took her with me because I knew she was alone on Christmas eve and thought we could enjoy ourselves a little after the case was finished. _That_ of course didn't work out the way I thought it would. now if that's all, I would like to take my leave" and with that Sherlock proceeded out of the flat. Little did he know, that his best friend, Dr. John Hamish Watson, was standing inside the flat with his mouth agape and his eyes wide with shock.

* * *

**11:35, 25TH December (Molly's POV)**

Molly couldn't cry anymore. Her tear ducts were as dry as a desert. She had cried the whole night and was tired and sleepy. But sleep betrayed her. So, after an hour or so of trying, she gave up and decided to watch telly instead. She was hardly listening to anything that was being said, hell, she didn't even know what channel it was! Yes, this is what Sherlock Holmes had done to her. He had turned her into a complete wreck! She was never going to forgive Sherlock for that. She was never going to see his face ever again!  
'That is impossible and you know it.' said a voice in her head. It was true really, there was no way she could avoid Sherlock forever. For one, he was always going to show up in her morgue, asking for body parts and stuff. And secondly, she was very much in love with Sherlock Holmes and avoiding him would last for exactly a week, if not less. But she needed to make Sherlock realize that she was not just someone he could use and then throw away. No. she was more than that. She would tell him that they next time they met.

She was just about to get up and pour herself some wine, when she heard a knock on her door. she glanced at her clock to see that it read 11:35 am. She proceeded towards the door, curious of who had come to visit her in the middle of the day.

* * *

**11:35, 25TH December (Sherlock's POV)**

Sherlock was standing outside Molly Hooper's flat. He knew that Molly wouldn't be at Bart's, because to be honest, he knew Molly Hooper's schedule better than Molly did. He had prepared a speech for Molly, which he totally planned on giving. That is if he didn't forget that too. Yes, Sherlock holmes was nervous. That was very out of character for Sherlock, 'cause he wasn't nervous easily. 'Quit overthinking and get it over with!' said a voice in his head which sounded very much like John's. Sherlock decided that it was the right thing to do, and after a beep breath, he finally knocked on the door.

* * *

**11:43, 25TH December**

Molly opened the door to find a very familiar consulting detective standing in front. She hadn't expected him to be there and seeing him almost made her jump in surprise. After collecting herself together, she was finally able to look at him. Sherlock said nothing, he just stood near the door giving Molly a nervous smile.  
"What do you want Sherlock?" she asked in a rather sour tone.  
From where he was standing, he could read her like an open book. Her eyes were swollen, suggesting that she had been crying and the bags under her gave away the fact tat she hadn't slept. Sherlock suddenly felt like slapping himself. He had hurt Molly, and he couldn't even rationalize why he did so.  
He was brought back to reality when Molly shouted at him  
"I asked what are you doing here?!"  
"I came here to apologize to you. Can I come in? I am pretty sure that you neighbor is standing near the door and listening to our conversation" He said pointing towards the apartment opposite of Molly's  
His accusations were confirmed when a loud noise was heard from inside the other apartment.  
Molly sighed and moved away from the door, letting Sherlock enter.  
After entering, he took off his scarf and closed the door behind him. Molly turned to face him and put her hands on her hips

"So, what do you want?" she repeated.  
"I said I wanted to apologize to you. Do pay attention Molly."  
Molly shot him a glare  
"If that's your way of starting an apology, then you might as well leave." she said.  
"Molly, I realize that I have hurt you and I am really sorry" He stated.  
"Well, okay, there you've apologized, now leave!" Molly spat.  
"You didn't forgive me. Clearly. Why not?" Sherlock asked in a nonchalant way.  
"Why you ask? is because I'm sick of you treating me like junk! I can't take it anymore!" Molly was shouting now. She realized that and took three deep breaths which seemed to calm molly down a bit.  
"Sherlock, I get it that you were on a case, and I also get it that you were tired, but would it have killed you to at least send me a text, telling me to go home? Telling me not to wait for you? Can you even start to imagine how hurt I was when you told me that you forgot about me?" Molly's voice cracked at the last sentence, and from where he was standing, Sherlock could clearly see that Molly was holding back tears.  
With two long strides, Sherlock closed the distance between him and Molly, put his arms around her, and hugged her tight.  
Molly tried to fight him in the beginning, but in the end she gave into his embrace.  
"Yes Molly, I do realize what I have done, and I'm not proud of it. I really am sorry and I know that I do not deserve this, but just give me another chance. Your friendship is very precious to me, and the last thing I want is to lose it" He said. His tone was so full of warmth that it made Molly cry, and this time, she didn't try to hold back.  
Sherlock and Molly just stood there like that for a few more minutes, in each other's embrace, enjoying the feeling of each other's arms. After what seemed like an eternity, they moth parted and looked at each other.  
"So I guess that's a 'apology accepted?'" Said Sherlock while smirking.  
Molly, on the other hand just laughed. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to become his cocky old self after an apology.  
"Yes I guess that is what this it. Apology accepted." She said.  
"Good, so if that's all, I would like to take my leave now." Sherlock said, collecting his scarf from where he had left it earlier.  
Molly smiled at him and nodded, giving him a silent permission.  
Sherlock returned the smile and walked toward the door. He opened the door and was about to leave, when he suddenly turned towards Molly, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek  
"Marry Christmas Molly Hooper." was the last thing he said to her before leaving

Unknown to the detective, he had left another person with her mouth agape and eyes with shock.

**A/N: Like it ?Hate it? Do not forget to review! Thankee for reading! (also check out my other story 'The Imperial Letters")**

** Lots of love,**

**-echoesinthenight.**


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